Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1) (13 page)

She decided to start in the dungeon, which seemed the most obvious place for a vampire to hide. First, though, she’d have to make her way to the dining room without arousing suspicion—or, better yet, enter through the hidden door in the woods. That way, if she was missed or got caught, she could claim she’d simply gone out for some fresh air.

Satisfied with her plan, she made her way through the castle and out a back door without being spotted. She walked the garden, searching the ground for the hidden entrance, but found no sign of a trapdoor. Heart beating fast, both from the exertion and her fear of discovery—yes, she had a cover story, but she’d still have to sell it—she circled the castle again and again, moving a few feet farther out with each go-round. As she completed each loop, she stopped to look around and listen. No one appeared and no human noises disturbed the sounds of nature.

Frustration thrummed in her blood as her fruitless search continued. Surely, Callum would have missed her by now and would appear any second. Would he detect the lie as he searched her mind? Of course he would.

Berating herself for her stupidity, she decided to quit while she was ahead and go back inside before she was missed. First, though, she needed a breather. The exercise of circling the garden had made her sweaty and tired. Spying a bench nearby, she walked over and took a seat. Just as her pulse began to slow, she heard rustling beyond the manicured hedges. Her heart leaped into her throat as she strained to see what had caused the commotion.

When the culprit showed himself, fright shivered through her as her mind groped for an explanation. She was sure there were no lions in Scotland, so the animal must have escaped from a circus or wild animal park somewhere nearby. Wherever he’d come from, he probably wasn’t tame. She just hoped he wasn’t hungry, either.

Heart hammering, hands shaking, she remained as still as a potted plant, praying he wouldn’t notice her. The big cat, to her dismay, looked right at her with his fearsome topaz eyes. She didn’t move or breathe. As much as she wanted to run, she knew it was the worst thing she could do. Even if the lion wasn’t inclined toward mauling her, running was guaranteed to put him in the mood.

The lion curled his lip, emitted a staccato sound, and stalked toward her.

A small whimper escaped her as mortal terror locked her in a stranglehold. Blood pounded in her temples and the urge to flee twitched in her legs. Her spinning mind showed another Delacroix from the Louvre. In this one, the lion was eating a woman. Holy shit. Her heart was thumping so hard, her chest felt ready to explode.

The lion crept still closer, his golden eyes locked on her face.

“Nice kitty,” she said, forcing the words through her constricted throat. “Please don’t hurt me; I support PETA, the SPCA, and the National Wildlife Federation.”

The beast let out a low, rumbling growl and then, to her enormous relief, turned around and sauntered off in the opposite direction.

* * * *

When Callum reached the bedroom, where Vanessa had gone to have a lie-down to recover from the shock of her encounter with his alter ego, he found her sitting up looking fully restored and very much at home in his bed. As their gazes met, his cock tingled with interest. He’d thought about taking her on a picnic to show her the stacks and maybe the lighthouse, but now was having second thoughts.

Being nobody’s fool, he knew exactly what she was doing in the garden: snooping around in search of the hidden entrance to the dungeon he’d mentioned last night. Well, let her look to her hearts content. She’d find nothing more interesting in the dungeon than rusty shackles and cobwebs. Little did she know, what she was looking for was right in front of her.

Luckily, she’d swallowed his story about the lion being an escapee from a nearby wildlife park. Never mind that there wasn’t any such park for miles around. She wouldn’t know that or be able to check the veracity of his story without a cell signal.

Meanwhile, he’d continue enjoying her company. If she was up for it, he’d make love to her again, and then make some excuse to leave her alone long enough to thoroughly explore Barrogill. Maybe, after she found nothing out of the ordinary, she’d forget all about the castle’s alleged vampire and focus completely on catering to the needs of its master.

Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he took her hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Much better.”

“Good.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve searched the grounds and there’s no sign of the lion. I’ve also called the park and, it turns out they
are
missing one of their cats. They’re sending someone over immediately to recapture the old fellow.”

Lying to her gave him a qualm, though he couldn’t think why it should when she’d been dishonest about her reasons for being in the garden.

“Thank you for believing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He searched her face for a reaction, sure he saw a flicker of guilt behind her steady blue gaze. “You’ve given me no reason to doubt you thus far.”

Aye, he was being wicked, but her duplicity had earned it. As they went on gazing at one another, her eyes turned smoky and dark, giving him the impression she was thinking along the same lines as he was. Outside the bedroom she might be having him on, but inside she was the most sexually responsive woman he’d ever been with. Even his whores didn’t compare. They were skillful, to be sure, but sex with them was like eating a piece of cake with a fork. Making love to his butterfly, on the other hand, was like eating a whole cake with his hands, covering himself in sweet, sticky frosting in the process.

Passion shifting into higher gear, his gaze slid to her mouth. Her lips were parted invitingly. He licked his own as the urge to kiss her rose inside him like the sun at daybreak. As he moved in, she lifted her face. He swept his lips across hers, savoring their soft feel and delicate flavor. She smelled of the outdoors. Pine, grass, and something sweetly floral touched with sea wind. As his mouth captured hers, he sensed her surrender in every wee movement: the softening of her mouth, the parting of her lips, and the offering of her tongue. If only her heart was half as yielding. Not that he could keep her, even if she wanted to stay.

But for now, for now, she was his to claim. Letting himself off the reins, he put everything he had, everything he’d held back for centuries, into that kiss. She matched his intensity, melting his last shield and making him almost believe she shared his desperate, impossible desire to turn their affair into something more.

He captured her tongue, sucked it hard, and bit down. She moaned, protesting the pain, but didn’t retreat from him. Clamping down, he sucked with vigor, savoring the salty richness of her blood while his heart beat out a hopeful refrain:
if only, if only, if only
.

* * * *

Alone in the dining room of the castle, Vanessa tapped her booted foot along the oriental carpet in search of the trapdoor into the dungeon. Callum and the butler had gone into town on an errand and would be gone for at least an hour, affording the perfect opportunity to resume her search for the vampire.

With the lion still lurking, returning to the garden was too risky, but getting into the dungeon through the interior hatch should be a piece of cake, provided she could locate the damn thing. She’d already checked all the corners with no luck and was now working her way around the room’s perimeter.

Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, boom.

Eureka! Her pulse quickened under a rush of adrenaline as she pulled back the carpet. Sure enough, there was a hinged hatch cut into the wooden planks underneath. Slipping her fingers through the recessed iron pull, she attempted to lift it. Shit, it was heavier than it looked. Bending her knees, she put her back into it. Yes! The door came up, groaning from disuse, and belched a gust of dank and dust into the dining room.

She did her best to lay the door down easy, but its weight got the better of her. It dropped on the floorboards with a resounding bang she was sure carried all the way to the maid’s quarters. She listened, heart pounding, for the approach of footsteps. Hearing none, she steeled her nerves and peered into the hole.

A makeshift wooden ladder descended into total darkness. Luckily, she had the battery-powered torch she’d found underneath the sink in Callum’s
en suite
. Tucking the flashlight into the waistband of her jeans, she positioned her boots on the rungs and started down, half hoping she wouldn’t find a vampire hiding in the darkness.

Her dread coiled tighter with every step. It didn’t help that the rickety slats felt ready to snap under her weight…or that the space grew colder and creepier as she descended into cave-like darkness. As she stepped down on the fifth or sixth rung—she’d lost track—the wood did break. Her stomach flew out of her mouth as her foot plunged downward. Panic exploding, she yelped and gripped the rails for dear life, picking up a few splinters in the process.

Luckily, her boot hooked the next rung, stopping her fall. Carefully, breathlessly, she navigated several more steps until, at long last, her foot touched solid rock. Catching her breath, she looked up. Holy shit. The dining room had to be at least twelve feet above her. If she’d fallen, she would have broken her neck for sure.

With trembling hands, she pulled out the flashlight and fumbled with the buttons until it came on. The beam fell across block walls of natural stone, thick cobwebs, and cracks oozing lime. The tunnel was narrow, the ceiling as high as the ladder, and the air stale and musty. A chill crawled up her spine, giving her gooseflesh and making her shiver all over. This was starting to feel like a very bad, very stupid idea.

“Hello?” she called out. “Is anybody down here?”

Her greeting reverberated, but, as expected, received no reply. Swallowing her trepidation, she set off down the passageway, telling herself she wouldn’t make much of a paranormal investigator if she was afraid of something as innocuous as darkness. A few feet down the passage, her torch dimmed and flickered. Then, something banged, jarring her. An icicle of fear formed inside her breast she realized what she’d heard: someone had closed the trapdoor to the dining room, trapping her in the bowels of the castle. If she did meet the vampire down here in the dark, nobody was around to hear her screams—except whoever had locked her in here, assuming it was indeed a
someone
and not a
something
.

As another chill skittered through her, the flashlight flickered again. Fuck. If the batteries died, she’d be trapped down here in total darkness. Terror closed around her throat like strangling hands. She turned back toward the ladder. Who had closed the trapdoor and why? If it was meant to be a joke, she didn’t find it the least bit funny. But a bigger question loomed: if she managed to climb back up the ladder and somehow summoned the strength to open the hatch, would she find the prankster lying in wait for her?

The sudden need to pee stabbed her bladder. Great, that was all she needed on top of the icy sweat oozing from her pores. She decided to go forward in hopes of finding the garden exit. Yes, there might be a lion on that end, but there also might not be. Callum had said the people from the wild animal park were on their way to capture the animal, so maybe the danger was gone.

She walked on, shining the beam across burnt-down torches, rusted manacles, and locked doors. She’d all but forgotten her original purpose in coming down here when she heard something behind her. Heart freezing in her chest, she spun around and flashed the light around, seeing nothing.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

Deciding it was probably a rat, she moved on, heart hammering in her ears. A few yards farther on, she heard what sounded like footfalls behind her. Pulling up again, she moved the beam around while listening for the noise. Had whoever shut the hatch followed her down here? Convinced Callum would never play such a cruel prank—much as she might deserve it—she could come up with only two possible culprits, both of them non-human.

She moved on, picking up her pace, praying it was the ghost, not the vampire. She was pretty sure the ghost wouldn’t hurt her, but couldn’t say the same for the vampire. As she rounded a corner, the temperature dropped abruptly, chilling the clammy flesh beneath her sweater. As she shivered, something brushed her arm. Squealing like a frightened child, she jumped away, swatting at the point of contact as eeriness slithered through her.

Shining the beam around again, Vanessa saw something this time: the shimmering image of the ghost she’d met earlier.

“What are you doing down here?” the spirit inquired.

“As foolish as it might seem, I’m looking for a vampire.”

“You won’t find the Vampire of Barrogill down here.”

Hope sprang in Vanessa’s heart. “So, there is an actual vampire living in the castle?”

“Aye, lass,” the apparition said. “But not the sort you suppose.”

“I suppose he’s the sort who drinks blood. What other sort is there?”

“The sort who can’t see that what he’s been searching for all this time is right in front of him, not unlike yourself.”

Vanessa wasn’t sure she understood. “Are you suggesting the vampire’s been in front of me the whole time?”